Judgement
by terabient
Summary: Even the gentlest of people can get angry.


Judgement  
  
Disclaimer: Skies of Arcadia is the property of Overworks and Sega. No profit is being made from the posting of this fanfiction. It is for entertainment purposes only.  
  
The battle would soon be over.  
  
There was a lull in the fight, now, as both sides paused to regain their strength, plan their next move. Ramirez, watching the party before him, knew he must act quickly. If he could catch them off-guard....it would be simple to end it. They were on their last legs, it would not take much to finish them.  
  
The male rogue moved, ready to attack. Ramirez drew his blade up, murmuring the words that would grant him the power to destroy this petty air pirate. Ice, chill and deadly, summoned from the depths of his soul, rose from the ground, shooting towards the boy with murderous intent. The ice shot upwards suddenly, impaling the rogue before dissolving into nothingness and dropping its victim to the floor.  
  
Despite all his efforts, the young pirate could not help from letting out a cry of agonized pain as he fell with a sickening thud to the floor. Ramirez wasted no time, ignoring the feeble struggles of the boy as he attempted to rise once again. The Silvite turned his attention to the redhaired girl, rushing towards the woman with remarkable speed. The redhaired pirate raised her weapon in a pitiful attempt to block Ramirez's sword, but he easily overpowered her, slashing across the girl's chest deeply. The young woman crumpled to the ground.  
  
Ramirez turned, now facing his one-time friend. Her eyes pleaded with him, silently asking him to stop the killing. He shook his head, once, and struck out at the Silvite woman violently. Caught by surprise, the young woman made no move to defend herself, and the strength of the blow sent her sprawling backwards, unconcious.  
  
Ramirez smiled, a cold smile devoid of real happiness. He turned again, to face the only survivor.  
  
_______________  
  
Enrique stood alone, his eyes wide with shock. How had things changed so quickly? He--everyone--had thought that victory was within their grasp, that they would soon end this--but now---  
  
Ramirez was smiling. It was a self-satified, cold smile, a cruel twisting of his lips.  
  
"So, you are the last one standing. How appropriate--the weakling prince who abandoned his country in some delusional hope that he might save that worthless race from destruction." Ramirez raised his sword, a wild sort of pleasure glowing in his eyes. "Like all of those fools, I will end your petty existance. After all, you sealed your fate when you ended the life the only one who could cleanse you!" The manical gleam in the Silvite's eye grew, a terrifying mix of bloodlust and dreadful pleasure spreading across his face.  
  
Enrique's fingers closed around the hilt of his rapier. Ramirez's words fell upon his ears like pins upon glass, echoing inside of him.  
  
"Fools," the prince murmured. He saw young children, dead in the streets, uncomphrending.  
  
"Worthless."  
  
The beautiful palace, his only home-the exquisite mansions of Upper Valua-- the gigantic factories of Lower Valua-all of them bursting into flame, devoured until only blasted stone and charred wood remained.  
  
"Petty...?"  
  
*She* stood before him, her midnight coloured eyes almost completely hooded by rich, dark eyelashes. "Worry not about me," she whispered, her voice as soft and sad as a forest brook. "No matter what difficulties may befall me, I shall always stay by your side." She rested her hand on his chest, in an attempt to soothe him. "It is the duty of all royalty, to give herself to the people."  
  
"Cleansing...."  
  
His "uncle" turned away, sacrificing his life in the hope that his prince would save his country, strong in the belief that he was doing what was best for his people.  
  
Anger rose up inside the prince. He had never experienced emotion so sharply, so completely, before this; it was white-hot and violent, consuming him, destroying any pity, any compassion he might have held for his opponent.  
  
And he knew, now, with almost shocking clarity--He hated this man. Hated his coldness, his smug, misplaced, undeserving superiority; despised his obedience to Lord Galcian; was sickened by his dreams of death.  
  
Through the red haze covering his gaze, past the near-overwhelming pressure in his chest, Enrique spoke.  
  
"How dare you."  
  
Ramirez paused, surprised. The words were not spoken so much as spat out, postively hissing with an almost unholy anger. Ramirez was suddenly and uncomfortably reminded that this was Empress Teodora's son.  
  
"How *dare* you even think of saying that?" Enrique hissed, his blue eyes blazing. "What makes you think that your lord was at all worthy of praise?" The prince took a step toward the Silvite, but then stopped, holding himself back by a supreme effort of will. "You dare to tell *me* that I am at fault-that we-" he motioned to the fallen forms of his allies-"are the ones at fault?"  
  
Ramirez's eyes flashed. "You idiot. Have you no idea of what my lord was trying to do? He was-"  
  
Enrique cut him off. "-a murderer of children. A coward of a man, willing to sacrifice the lives of his own followers rather than admit defeat. A man who sent off the woman who loved him, trusted him, to die." The prince let out a harsh, short laugh. "That is the man who you follow."  
  
Ramirez growled in anger. "By the moons, you will beg for death before I am finished with you, fool prince!"  
  
"I won't let you win." Enrique whispered harshly, rushing Ramirez suddenly.  
  
Caught off-guard, Ramirez raised his blade to defend himself. Enrique easily slipped through the hasty defense, his blade singing with the speed of its wielder's motions. Powered by the anger and pain of its user, the sword cut deep gashes into the Silvite, leaving him weak, helpless. Ramirez attempted to counterattack, but the prince gracefully eluded his strikes, his body twisting with the trained grace of a fencer. Slowly, unwillingly, Ramirez sank to his knees, no longer able to withstand the Valuan's assault.  
  
Ramirez raised his eyes up to meet Enrique's. The blue eyes were pitiless, devoid of any mercy whatsoever. Just like all of his kind, he thought. "You...you are doomed. You would rather live in this world of hateful, unthinking humans?"  
  
Enrique's eyes narrowed. "You are no better than the rest of us."  
  
Ramirez laughed harshly. "So you would think. At least *I* care enough to-- "  
  
"--to murder children?" The prince's gaze tore through the admiral like a spear, impaling him with the pain they held. Tears fell from those accusing eyes, and yet, somehow, the Silvite could not call it weeping; these were not tears of self-pity or pain but came from somewhere deeper, sadder, and was infinitely more awful than anything Ramirez had experienced. "To destroy those who are innocent and helpless? To force the world to take on your vision of it?"  
  
In spite of himself, Ramirez cringed. The words were soft, barely over a whisper, and yet the sheer emotion within them was more painful and wounding than any sword strike. Under that unforgiving gaze, the Silvite could feel the anger and hatred he had borne these people, this world, begin to wither like dried grass in wildfire. Nothing this world had done to him could possibly deserve what he had done to them.  
  
The Silvite tried to move, to strike out at this infuriating boy. but his body would not listen. He was enthralled, captured by the Valuan's rage, at the mercy of that barely-constrained anger. He had to move. He must break free of this--it must not end in this way--  
  
Fina, almost forgotten by both men, pulled herself to her feet. "Ramirez...." she pleaded.  
  
Her voice snapped the hold Enrique had over the Silvite, bringing him back to himself. He pulled himself away from the group, only now coming back to conciousness. Looking down, he saw that his hands were trembling; he was far more shaken than he would have wanted to admit.  
  
For a moment, Ramirez doubted himself. He was in the wrong, he was fighting the fight of a cornered rat, hissing and spitting like a spoiled brat at the world. And then he laughed at himself, shaking his head at his foolishness.  
  
He was not the one at fault. They were the ones that had harmed him, had forced him to Lord Galcian. They were the ones that had brought this horror upon themselves, and he was merely the vessel that delivered it.  
  
He would finish this, once and for all.  
  
The innocent mattered not.  
  
In the end, there were none worthy of life.  
  
Not even himself.  
  
-end 


End file.
